The door clicked shut, and I did as he asked, turning the lock with a soft snick that echoed in the sudden silence. The suite felt emptier without him, the vast space amplifying my solitude. I paced to the window, pressing my palm against the cool pane, watching his car pull away below.Be careful.The words looped in my mind, a mantra against the growing dread.
Three days ago, I'd made that call, my voice steady as I baited Boris, but the memory of his laugh, his threat ‘Involve Keith... that would threaten his life’ still sent chills down my spine. Keith had assured me that Victor's team would handle it, but the waiting was torture. What if something went wrong? What if Boris had anticipated the trap, turned it on them? Keith was strong, capable, but he was human, flesh and blood, not invincible. The thought of losing him, after everything we'd built in such a short time, the island, the hidden cave, the way he made me feel safe for the first time in years, terrified me more than my own nightmares.
I sank onto the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, each second stretching into eternity. To distract myself, I grabbed my sketchbook from the coffee table, flipping to a blank page, my pencil scratching idly, curves of a lagoon, flares of a dress, fragments of the life Keith had shown me. But my lines were shaky, the pencil trembling in my grip.He's fine,I told myself.He will come back.But the unease grew, a cold sweat prickling my skin, my heart racing as if it knew something I didn't. Minutes turned to an hour, then two, the sun climbing higher, mocking my vigil with its brightness.
A knock at the door jolted me upright, my pencil clattering to the floor. "Ms. Sterling? It's Victor."
Relief flooded me, mixed with fresh worry, why was he here? I crossed the room, peering through the peephole before unlocking it. Victor stood there, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp, assessing. "Mr. Krogen asked me to escort you.” he said, his accent clipped and efficient. "For your protection, until this is resolved."
My stomach dropped. "What's happened? Is Keith…"
"He's fine," Victor cut in smoothly, though his tone was too quick, too rehearsed. "Precautions only. Gather what you need. We leave now."
I hesitated, my hand on the doorframe, panic rising like bile. "Tell me what's going on. Why now? Where is he?"
Victor's gaze softened fractionally, a rare crack in his professional armor. "He's handling it. Trust him, Ms. Sterling. You can trust me too. Your safety is priority."
The wordtrustechoed, a lifeline I clung to as I nodded, rushing to pack a small bag. Sketchbook, a change of clothes, my phone. My hands shook, the unease now a full-blown dread, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Keith had promised he'd come back, but Victor's presence screamed trouble. We rode the elevator in silence, the descent feeling like a plunge into the unknown, the lobby's bustle a blur as Victor guided me to a waiting black SUV.
The drive through the city was a tense limbo. I sat in the back, my bag clutched in my lap, Victor in the passenger seat up front with the driver, a stone-faced man.. The unease clawed at me, myfingers drumming on my knee, questions spilling out despite Victor's silence. "Where are we going?”
"A secure location," Victor replied, his eyes on his phone, typing rapidly.
"Victor, please. Is it Keith. Is he okay? The call... Boris threatened him. Did something happen at the pier?"
He glanced back, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something, concern? "Mr. Krogen is handling it. He's prepared. We need to focus on keeping you safe."
The vagueness fueled my anxiety, my mind conjuring images. Keith cornered, Boris's smug face, a fight in the dark. "Handling it how? Guns? Men? Victor, I'm not a child. I deserve to know."
He sighed, turning slightly. "He's ending it. For you. Trust the plan. It's solid."
Ending it.The words hung, heavy with implication. Violence? My stomach churned, the SUV's smooth ride doing nothing to ease the nausea. "And if the plan fails? What then?"
"It won't," he said firmly, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview. "Mr. Krogen doesn't fail. Not when it matters."
The reassurance rang hollow, the city fading into desolate stretches of abandoned lots. After what felt like hours we pulled up to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the industrial district, its chain-link gate rusted but secured with a heavy padlock. My unease spiked, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. "Victor... this looks like anything but safe."
He unlocked the gate with a key fob, the car rolling through into a shadowed lot. "Appearances deceive," he said, killing the engine. "We wait here for Mr. Krogen's signal."
"Wait?" I echoed, my voice sharp. "For how long? And why here? It's... creepy."
He checked his watch. "Until he calls. It's secure. Here, drink some water." He handed me a bottle from the console, his tone brooking no argument.
I took it, my hands trembling, the plastic crinkling under my grip. The warehouse loomed outside the windows, its dark maw swallowing the light, the wind whistling through cracks like whispers of warning. Minutes stretched into an hour, then two, the silence oppressive, broken only by the occasional crackle of Victor's radio and my unanswered questions. "Has he called? Is everything okay?" I'd ask, and he'd reply with a curt "Soon," his eyes on his screen, typing messages I couldn't see.
The unease grew into dread, a vise around my chest, my mind racing with flashes of the party. Boris's smile, Keith's fury when he followed me, the way he'd held me through the panic. What if Boris had anticipated the trap? What if Keith was hurt, or worse? The warehouse's shadows seemed to creep closer, the boarded windows like eyes watching, the distant hum of traffic a mocking reminder of the world moving on without us. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, whispering a prayer under my breath. ‘Please be safe. Come back to me.’
After what felt like an eternity, Victor's radio crackled to life. "Bring her in," Keith's voice came through, low and steady, but edged with something dark, something that sent a chill down my spine.
Victor nodded, starting the engine briefly to pull closer to the warehouse door. "Time," he said, opening my door. "Stay close."
I followed him out, the gravel crunching under my shoes, the air cooler here, laced with rust and decay. The warehouse door loomed, a massive steel slab scarred with dents, Victor punching a code into a hidden panel that beeped green. The door groaned open on rusted hinges, revealing a dark maw that swallowed the light. Unease clawed at me, my skin prickling as if the shadows had teeth. "Victor... this doesn't feel right," I whispered, my voice echoing slightly.
He glanced back, his expression unreadable. "It's secure. Trust Mr. Krogen."
We stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind us with a finality that made my heart lurch. The interior was dimly lit by emergency bulbs, concrete floors stained with oil, metal shelves sagging under dusty crates. But as we turned a corner into the main space, shock hit me like a physical blow, freezing me in place.
Boris was there, tied to a chair in the center, his body a ruin of blood and brutality. His suit was shredded, soaked crimson, his face swollen and unrecognizable. His chest heaving with ragged breaths, the air filled with the coppery stench of blood and the acrid burn of charred flesh. He looked like he'd been through hell. His once smug eyes dull with pain, whimpers escaping his ruined mouth.
